Arthur leaned back in the driver's seat, the car rumbling along the clean but eerily empty streets of North Oak.
Thinking back on everything, he couldn't help but laugh a little.
In the end,
He had to find a cyberpunk — himself — to have a "good chat" with Michael about what it really meant to work and get paid.
Night City was like that.
In the original game timeline, when Michael's situation went public, those honest factory workers hadn't even put up a real resistance.
At first, they planned a peaceful solution — send a worker representative to negotiate with Michael, propose a general strike.
But the minute Military Technology got involved, things got ugly.
Real ugly.
The corporate dogs from Militech made it clear:
"Striking is illegal under military contract law.
Return to work. Immediately."
The workers?
They were already dirt-poor, struggling just to afford the occasional night with a twisted girl from Jig-Jig Street.
Being told they didn't even have the right to strike?
That was the final insult.
They grabbed whatever they could — pipes, crowbars, swing sticks — and prepared to show these corpo bastards the true power of grandfather workers!
They were brave.
They were angry.
But anger doesn't beat bullets.
When the first shot rang out — 7.62mm, cold and sharp —
The blood flowed like water.
Drones hovered above the factory, cold lenses scanning.
Automatic gunfire ripped through the air, chewing through flesh like paper.
By the time the last drone drifted lazily through the blood-misted air, searching for any survivors to double-tap, the factory had fallen silent.
Just another tragedy in Night City.
Arthur sighed.
Honestly, he thought Militech had been too soft.
"Such obedient employees," he muttered. "You idiots should have kept them alive."
Now that they were dead, where would Militech find such good labor again?
No, the smart move would've been keeping them working —
Squeeze them dry.
But whatever.
If Militech didn't want loyal workers, Arthur would be more than happy to recruit the survivors himself.
Even in a world where most factories ran on automation, human labor was still needed.
Robots were expensive.
Humans?
Cheap.
The old captain's voice crackled through Arthur's implant.
"You did a good job this time," the old sailor grumbled. "By the way, where the hell was the mouse hiding?"
Arthur leaned one elbow out the window, steering casually with the other hand.
He smirked and said, "Old Captain, I'm starting to doubt your credibility."
"The last mission you gave me had military biotech crawling all over it.
This one?
Even worse."
"You know how deep I had to go this time?" Arthur continued.
"North Oak, my guy.
North fing Oak.*
I had to break into the richest area in Night City. D'you know what happens if someone so much as sneezes wrong in North Oak?"
There was a pause.
The old captain finally coughed awkwardly.
"North Oak..." he muttered. "Arthur, you're seriously nuts.
If it were me, I would've turned around the second I saw those hedges."
Arthur chuckled.
"Relax," he said. "No big mess. The guy's broke.
By now, he's probably out there licking spit in front of some bar downtown."
The old captain made a disgusted noise.
"Christ, could you not describe it like that?"
Arthur shrugged.
"Hey, it's Night City.
You either climb the tower or you choke on sewage.
You should know better than anyone."
After a moment, Arthur grew serious.
"And in case you're wondering, your boy Michael?
He's cooked."
"He couldn't handle the bankruptcy. Tried patching his brain with junk from the Maelstroms.
Now he's two steps away from full-blown cyberpsychosis."
"You rich folk..." Arthur muttered.
"Your mental fortitude is about as fragile as a tissue in a sandstorm."
The old captain stayed quiet for a moment.
When he spoke again, he sounded almost guilty.
"Fine," he said heavily.
"I'll halve the commission cut this time.
Should've warned you."
He sighed again.
"I'll set up the worker meeting.
Those poor bastards should be easy to round up — they've probably been starving since Michael stopped paying."
Arthur smiled lazily.
"Now you're talking like a real captain."
Then he added, almost offhandedly:
"Oh yeah, by the way, I brought someone new with me this time.
Fresh meat.
Pulled his weight too.
Made some real contributions."
"I sent you his info. Maybe think about giving him work in the future."
The old captain grunted.
"Got it. I'll keep him in mind."
The call ended.
Arthur tossed the shard into the passenger seat and leaned back, watching the neon skyline get closer.
Middlemen.
They were all the same.
In Night City, middlemen were just salesmen peddling blood-soaked gigs.
Some were more honest about it — like the old captain.
But at the end of the day, they were all sharks swimming the same poisoned waters.
The old captain had just learned to smile while he did it.
Arthur didn't blame him.
He admired it, honestly.
Better a shark with a smile than a shark with a chainsaw.
Soon enough, Arthur was pulling back into the security checkpoint.
The same captain from earlier waved them down.
Arthur rolled down the window, casually tossing the guy another cigarette.
"Brother, why so fast?" the security captain asked, taking the cigarette eagerly.
He glanced through the window — and froze when he saw Jack.
Jack, still sitting in the back, slouched in exhaustion.
The pink dress hung crookedly off his huge, scarred frame.
The security captain's brain spun.
Thunderstruck.
One second of silence.
Two seconds.
And then—
HISS!
The security captain sucked in a sharp breath.
His imagination... exploded.
Could it be...
Was this why Kerry divorced his ex-wife?
Because... because...
Because he had fallen for someone like that?
The security captain paled visibly, cold sweat dripping down his forehead.
My God...
Your circle is so chaotic!
He wanted to unsee.
He wanted to forget.
But the image burned itself deep into his soul.
In all his years guarding North Oak, he had seen scandals — drug parties, threesomes, corpo betrayals — but this?
This was new.
And somehow...
Night City felt even more cursed than before.
[End of Chapter 66: Your Circle Is So Chaotic!]